A Secondhand Lie

by Pamela Crane

  “What do you mean?” I asked, afraid to know what she was referring to.

  Her eyes avoided mine, then darted to her hands, which she folded and unfolded in her lap now. “I don’t know that I should tell you, Landon.”

  “Mom—no more lies. No more secrets. Please. I deserve the truth, don’t you think?”

  Gulping down a pocket of suffocating air, I waited for her explanation.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you. But please understand that this was your father’s decision as well. Not just mine.” She paused.

  “Fine, just tell me,” I urged, my patience wearing thin.

  “The day the police showed up to question me about your father’s involvement, I called in an anonymous tip saying it was him.”

  “What?” I yelled. “That was you? Why?”

  “It’s complicated,” she blustered.

  “Try me.” My voice was stern, unshakable.

  “I guess when the police talked to the neighbor and got his eyewitness account, he said he saw your father’s car at the robbery. When the cops came around asking me about it, I knew your dad was innocent. Like I said, he’d been here—in front of our house—the whole time. But your dad was concerned your Uncle Derek was involved in the robbery somehow, and that if your dad didn’t do time for the robbery then your Uncle Derek would. Your dad was trying to protect his little brother—you know how it’s ingrained in him. So your dad asked that I call in a tip saying it was him so that the cops wouldn’t eventually find their way to your uncle’s doorstep. I mean, we didn’t know what type of people Derek was doing business with and just how much trouble he could get into if the cops started looking into his… activities.”

  She took a breath, then continued, “I guess our plan worked in a way since your uncle’s managed to stay mostly clean ever since, hopefully not getting involved again with those lenders, or whatever they’re called—”

  “Loan sharks,” I interjected, realizing just how naïve she really was.

  “Yeah, them, but we didn’t expect your dad’s punishment to be so severe. We thought he’d get a year, tops. Our attorney—who wasn’t worth a damn—told us the judge was probably trying to set an example by using your father, since his term was up. I was shocked at the sentencing he got, but by then it was too late and we couldn’t afford to appeal it.”

  Apparently they had thought the decision through. But there was one thing my parents didn’t consider. One monumental thing.

  “How do you know the loan sharks aren’t responsible for Alexis’s murder?” I asked.

  “I’ve often wondered that,” she replied with a weighted sigh, “but if indeed they did it, for what purpose? It’s not like killing my baby girl was going to get them their money. Unless it was to make a point. But I got Derek the money to pay them off, so why hurt us after the fact?”

  “Yeah, I know you sold your grandma’s rings.”

  Mom shrugged, and her eyes dampened. “I don’t have a daughter to pass them down to anymore. Why hold on to them?”

  “Are you sure he used the money to clear the debt, though?”

  “I can’t go down that road thinking that way—that your uncle is somehow responsible for Alexis’s murder. Otherwise your father sacrificed his life for his brother only to lose everything. No… I can’t accept that.”

  She vehemently shook her head, closing her eyes against any possibility that the loan sharks were connected to my sister’s murder.

  “Your father accepted the blame to save his brother, to make amends for his failures, and to give us the freedom to heal without his bad influence. I’m healed. And he’s healed. He used the time to get sober. And now he’ll be free and we can start over, mending our lives together. Good came from it. I can’t strip that away, not now after having lost so much.”

  Her heartfelt explanation pained me, like stitches mending a gaping wound. All I could do was accept it and exchange my lingering ache from the lies for the anesthesia of faith.

  The depths of my soul opened, and I understood completely now. I realized why she had waited for him all these years, why they never fought the charges, why Dad never reached out to me from jail. All the whys joined together in a beautifully tangled web, revealing the purpose of his sacrifice and the reason for the lies. He needed to step away from us for us—his love was that profound, although buried under a jagged exterior of selfish indulgence. Now those chains were unbound and he could be who he always wanted to be, with his weaknesses finally laid to rest.

  That’s when I knew that one day all of my own anguish would also rest in peace.

  Chapter 15

  1992

  Wednesday, March 18

  Jennifer Worthington picked up today’s News and Observer, seething as she waved the front-page article in the air:

  Durham Middle School Teacher Convicted of Molesting Student

  A Durham teacher was convicted Tuesday of taking indecent liberties with a minor after inappropriately touching one of his students. The scandal made headlines when the story broke in February.

  Jeremy Mason, a science teacher in the Durham public school system, pleaded not guilty, and although he will be registered as a sexual offender, he received what some in the community are calling a light sentence. He had been teaching at the school for two years and is now on indefinite administrative leave.

  Mason was accused of luring a minor female student, whose name the News and Observer is withholding, into his sixth-grade science classroom to discuss her test results, then making inappropriate advances toward the girl, which the victim’s mother quoted included “fondling and touching.” When Principal Rodney Williams was questioned about the details, he stated that the victim claimed she “was threatened with a failing grade if she didn’t comply.”

  Durham police conducted an investigation that eventually led to Mason’s arrest and conviction in a Durham district court. Due to insufficient physical evidence and written testimony from a fellow minor student who claimed to have overheard the victim boasting about her plans to frame Mason, the judge sentenced Mason to a three-year probation, the minimum sentence for a sexual offense.

  “Children are notoriously unreliable witnesses, and we can’t always know what the raw truth is,” Principal Williams commented. “There’s a big gray area in between the lines when it comes to what middle-schoolers say. While we don’t know if Mr. Mason actually committed the crime, we can’t allow further scandal to distract kids from learning. It was with a heavy heart that I was forced to place him on administrative leave.”

  Mason, a lifelong Durham resident, has received numerous death threats since the allegations surfaced, according to police. Citizens angered by the verdict protested briefly outside the courthouse. At press time Mason could not be reached for comment.

  Sitting across from Jennifer on a recently purchased Goodwill sofa, clutching a mug of lukewarm coffee in both hands, was the man of the hour: Jeremy Mason. Now a pariah, and all because of one hateful and vindictive girl’s lies.

  Jennifer caressed the burnt orange corduroy of the matching chair catty-corner him, reluctant to adjust to the latest living room furniture additions. For some reason everything felt too final, removing the chair Alexis had been murdered in. As if keeping the recliner would have kept Alexis alive. But the girl’s blood had soaked into the fabric too deep to clean, and the image of her near-dead body sprawled out across the arm of the chair was etched too intimately on her soul. A single piece of furniture had been a millstone around Jennifer Worthington’s neck—a constant reminder of death and pain and anguish. She had no choice but to toss it, burying it in some dump along with the memories of her daughter.

  At least for now that’s where the memories would remain.

  Maybe someday remembering wouldn’t be so hard.

  Today was the first time she’d been distracted from the grief since losing her daughter. Jeremy Mason’s trial and conviction revived what was left of her emotions—a touch of empathy for his own loss
of life.

  “Don’t worry, Jeremy. Things will smooth over from what that Renee Clark girl said. Even the judge didn’t buy it.” Unfortunately, Jennifer’s feeble attempt at consoling Jeremy after his trial the day before proved fruitless, as she had expected. People didn’t bounce back from things like this overnight… if ever.

  His lips drooped into a broken frown, as if a sob sat on the verge of his lips.

  “I just don’t know how to feel, Jen. I hate that brat. She set out to destroy me, and why? Because of a poor grade? I’m so angry, so pissed I could—” His fist pounded the stained coffee table, punctuating the anger boiling within him as a crumb-littered plate trembled. But he didn’t dare finish the sentence. True, Renee Clark had been his albatross, ruining his life, but after Jennifer’s recent loss of her daughter, he chose his words carefully. Jennifer’s wound was too fresh.

  Jeremy glanced into Jennifer’s eyes, saw the compassion and pity there, and looked away. “Don’t mind me,” he muttered. “I’m just at a loss for what to do. I want Renee to pay for what she’s done, but what can I do? It’s a frustrating position to be in, and I feel so helpless.”

  Jen rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed tenderly. “We’ll figure it out.” Under his tense shrug, Jen’s hand dropped away.

  “How? I’m a registered sex offender now. I’ll never be able to teach. I’m jobless. I’ll be homeless soon too, since God knows no one will hire me to even flip burgers. You tell me, Jen, what’s to figure out. My well of hope has run dry. All because of that spoiled little brat and her big mouth.”

  An awkward moment passed. His words spoke of the harsh reality of lies, yet Renee was just a young girl who was too naïve to realize the power she held and the fate she could pass on to another.

  “I know you’re upset, Jeremy, but she’s a kid. A stupid, reckless one, yes, but still a kid.”

  Jeremy jumped up from his seat, clearly too angry to listen to any defense of the spiteful monster that had turned his life inside out.

  “Look, I appreciate you being here for me, but you’ve got your own worries to deal with.”

  Yet voicing those worries… few people had mustered the courage to speak the words of sympathy out loud. It had only been two weeks since Alexis’s murder, with no leads on who had done it, no justice or healing in sight. It was the elephant in the room that people tiptoed around, afraid of the wreckage that recognizing it aloud would cause.

  The hush grew thick. Then Jennifer straightened her back and lifted her chin.

  “I can’t bring Alexis back from death. But maybe I can help you get your life back together.”

  He nodded solemnly, the sadness looming around them as Tragedy raped them until they were empty shells walking numbly through life. First, the loss of Jennifer’s only daughter, her only chance at a better future. A future with grandbabies and mother-daughter pedicures and girl gossip over tea. Things she had never done before but suddenly needed to do now.

  Then there was Jeremy’s career and reputation and passion burned at the stake. All hopes and dreams felt misplaced that day, lost in a gust of wind that took them too swiftly.

  “I never knew it was her who tried to help me…” Jeremy spoke softly.

  “Who—Alexis?” Jennifer asked.

  “Yeah, I wish I would have known she was the girl who spoke up on my behalf.”

  “Why do you say that?” Jennifer probed, uncertain of what he was trying to say.

  “Just that if I had known she came to you with what she heard in the bathroom, maybe things would be different. Maybe I could have saved her too.”

  “How, Jeremy? How could you have saved her?” Jennifer spat, her voice skewering his statement. “I should have been here, but I wasn’t. And now she’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered softly. “I just wish I could have known what she did for me before she was—”

  Brutally murdered. Viciously killed. Those were the words he couldn’t finish, but Jennifer knew them by heart.

  “You want to thank my baby girl? Find her killer. That’s how you can thank her,” Jennifer replied curtly.

  Little did Jennifer know of Jeremy’s role in the saga of what happened to twelve-year-old Alexis Worthington, for she was too far trapped in her own emotional cage to see what swirled around her. Answers lurked in the shadows, and true identities hid behind masks. One day all would be revealed. The sun would shepherd in another revelation on another day—just not today.

  In fact, the sun wouldn’t shine for another twenty-two years.

  Twenty-two years later their lives would clash in an epic tale as Alexis’s killer would finally emerge. But this isn’t that story. This is the story of resurrecting hope where there once was none. An account of justice. A tale of new beginnings when you thought you’d run out.

  Second chances aren’t fiction. As Jeremy and Jennifer and Landon and Dan discovered through the aches of life, lies eventually surface, bringing in the nurturing healing of truth.

  Epilogue

  2014

  Dear Landon:

  I write to you from Durham County Detention Facility after my confession for my part in the robbery. According to my lawyer, I’ll be in and out in no time with barely a slap on the wrist since I ’fessed up on my own. Under normal circumstances one would think I’d be ticked off at you for unraveling my past sins, but not today. Instead, a thank you for the push up to the ledge is in order.

  Why?

  Because my life is finally whole again.

  For the first time in twenty years I saw my daughter. I don’t know how she caught wind of what happened, but she showed up out of the blue to visit me in jail… bringing along the most beautiful baby girl I’ve ever seen—my granddaughter Isabel. We spent the hour catching up and me apologizing for not being able to keep her in my life all these years. But more than that, she’s actually living in Raleigh now and wants to rekindle our relationship. She even offered to mediate between me and her brother, but all in due time.

  It’s amazing how something I thought would ruin me ended up saving me. I finally got the guilt off my chest, my daughter back, and for the first time in decades I’m happy. Ironic that jail would make me whole.

  Thanks, Landon, for prodding me to do the hard but right thing. At least your father will be out soon so that you can be reconciled. He should be proud of the son he raised.

  I hope they find your sister’s killer and that you find peace. I know what it’s like to feel turbulence in your heart every day, so if that moment to grab serenity comes, take it. You may only get one chance. Don’t leave it “Blowin’ in the Wind.” Another bad Bob Dylan joke. Now we’re even, my friend.

  Your Friend,

  Bob Dillon

  The stars dotting the inky sky tugged at my heart while I re-read the last paragraph a second time from my back porch. The metal chair creaked under me as I shifted to gaze up at the black expanse. The mantle of responsibility for my sister’s death weighed heavily upon my shoulders tonight, blanketing my life with the taint of regret.

  A pang of sorrow eclipsed my momentary optimism as I read Bob’s message. While I was mere weeks away from reuniting with my father once the acquittal process was over, it wouldn’t bring back Alexis from the dead. Only justice against her killer could part the clouds that darkened my world.

  As I folded the letter back up and slid it into the envelope, I wondered if Mia was that “moment to grab serenity” that Bob referred to. My feelings for her were a 10,000-piece puzzle that moment by moment came together, a kaleidoscope of random colors creating a harmonic image that captured something more beautiful than I ever imagined. I couldn’t put a tag on it—love, friendship, family, whatnot. She was more than that to me.

  While Mia sacrificed everything to rescue my sister’s memory, she was in fact tossing a life preserver into my turbulent life as well. Was she even aware of how much she meant to me, that she had become my compass through the brine of life? I doubted it. Mia Ge
rmaine was a precious and courageous soul, one that I cherished more than my own life.

  When she vowed to find my sister’s killer, I knew she wouldn’t give up until the job was done, even if the task took her own life. What better friend was there than that? My despair buckled under her love.

  Together we would put an end to a serial killer’s growing list of victims. We were only one step behind him—and his latest victim, Lilly Sanderson, would be his last. The Triangle Terror’s reign would soon be over.

  Closing my eyes, I conjured a picture of her face—those vibrant and passionate hazel eyes, her chestnut hair that tickled her shoulders when it swayed back and forth in a ponytail, her deeply intelligent mind. So beautiful inside and out.

  I didn’t deserve her.

  But I needed her.

  I wondered if she needed me too.

  Not in the way the world would assume. I didn’t want to make her my wife or possess her. I simply wanted her to know the truth about how I felt, who I was—to bare my soul to her. And maybe catch a glimpse of hers too.

  At that moment I made a decision, one of the hardest I ever faced. I would profess the truths hidden in my soul to Mia … and damn the consequences. Even if it cost me everything.

  I was prepared to lose it all, and I welcomed it. Mia was worth it.

  As I allowed a hazy calm to envelop me, I pictured how the scene would play out. It wouldn’t be pretty; it wouldn’t be perfect. But it would be ours.

  Author’s Note

  This is only the beginning. Landon Worthington’s path toward redeeming his family and avenging his dead sister has only begun in this companion story to the full novel, A Secondhand Life.